


Deep Breath

by ylime620



Series: Margaret's POV [1]
Category: MASH (TV)
Genre: Drama, F/M, Romance, Where There's A Will There's A War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-12
Updated: 2017-03-02
Packaged: 2018-09-23 17:39:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9669161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ylime620/pseuds/ylime620
Summary: BJ isn't the only member of the 4077th worried because Hawkeye's at Battalion Aid. Margaret's POV during the season 10 episode "Where There's A Will, There's A War" H/M





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I used direct dialogue from S10 Ep16

Margaret's heart sank.

 “A surgeon was killed at Battalion Aid,” she heard one of the nurses say. “There's a chance it could be Hawkeye and BJ's freaking out.”

 _BJ was freaking out? BJ’s worried. I'm freaking out_ , she thought.

Now she was regretting their hurried goodbye. What if she didn't see him again?

But there were men waiting for triage and she didn't have time to reflect.

Margaret tried to calm BJ down as she helped him scrub.

“Those men probably left before Hawkeye arrived,” she reassured him, not fooled by her own words.

“But what if they didn't?”

“Then we'll worry about it later. Right now we need to go put them back together.”

“Of course,” BJ sighed as he walked into the OR. Margaret took a deep breath and followed him inside.

Margaret began by assisting Charles. She knew BJ’s nervous energy would just make things worse.

The word had gotten around that Hawkeye might be in immediate danger and the atmosphere was particularly tense. Charles was his usual focused, professional self, and his quiet confidence was reassuring. She assisted him on three or four patients until Col. Potter called her over to help with a complicated surgery. She was the best nurse and everyone knew it. _Even Hawkeye_ , she thought. Margaret didn't get to be a major and head nurse just because she was beautiful.

But even the most complicated surgery couldn't distract her from her worries. That's not to say she wasn't focusing on her patient, but she was also anxiously awaiting any news Klinger may have heard from HQ about the situation at Battalion Aid.

BJ must've been thinking the same thing.

“Where the hell is Klinger?” she heard him ask.

“Keep your lid on Hunnicutt,” Col. Potter admonished.

“How long could it take to make one lousy phone call?!?!”

“Klinger’s got his hands full with this IRO  crowd of casualties.”

“There’s nothing to be gained by expecting the worst,” Margaret said angrily.

She was frustrated by his open concern and annoyed that she couldn't voice the same fears without attracting attention. Everyone knew Hawkeye and BJ were close, but she was super protective of how close she and Hawkeye were.

Klinger walked in. “Bad news. The phones are out at Battalion Aid. There’s no way to reach him.”

“Damn,” BJ swore. “What’s going on up there?”

“I did get through to I Corps. They say there’s pretty heavy shelling in that sector.”

Now, she was really scared. She remembered the last time they had been at the front together. At least then they were able to find comfort in each other. Hawkeye was there alone this time and she wondered if he was missing her as much as she missed him.

Fr. Mulcahy voice interrupted her thoughts. “Oh BJ, there’s no reason to assume that the dead surgeon is Hawkeye,” he said calmly.

“No reason to assume that it isn’t,” BJ snapped back.

“You’ve got to stop tearing your hair out about this. Nobody plans his own destiny. The best we can do is hit what’s pitched,” Col. Potter observed.

Margaret knew Col. Potter had a good point, but it still felt like he was offering empty advice. She was also surprised to realize how resentful she felt towards BJ. Of course, she would've been worried if he were up there instead, but then she'd be able to turn to Pierce for reassurance. _I'm pretty certain BJ wouldn't exactly be willing to offer the same kind of comfort,_ she thought ruefully.

Margaret's mind wandered back to earlier that morning. She had walked out of her tent to find Pierce jumping in a jeep about to leave. She knew it was silly, but she had a nagging feeling that she should say goodbye this time.

“Going AWOL, Pierce?” she joked.

He smiled. “Why Margaret, I'm disappointed in you. How could you even think such a thing?’

His voice turned serious as he told her that he was headed up to Battalion Aid.

“I thought it was BJ's turn to go.”

“It technically is, but they needed someone right away and can't wait for him to get back.”

Margaret suddenly had a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach. “Well, come back safely. This place would be boring without you.”

Hawkeye gave her a soft smile. Emboldened by her concern and kind words, he leaned over and gave her a quick goodbye kiss on the cheek. He looked around to make sure he had everything he needed and started to pull away. Margaret gave him a soft wave goodbye as he left.

Margaret was pulled back to the present by a clang on the floor. She realized in shame that she had dropped an instrument.

“Major?” Col. Potter looked at her, surprised. “Are you ok? You seemed lost and I've never known you to be distracted in OR.”

“I'm sorry, sir.”

Margaret picked up the tool and brought it over to be sterilized. Then she went back and took her place beside the colonel once again. She resolved to focus solely on the surgery and push all thoughts of Hawkeye to the side.

Patients came and went as she continued assisting Col. Potter for the next few hours. The deluge was nowhere near over when Potter insisted she take a short break.

Margaret went back to her tent and nearly passed out from exhaustion, but knew sleep was far away. She knew they could only spare her for about 15 minutes, so she sat at her desk and started to write.

The news about Hawkeye had triggered a fear in her heart. She wasn't used to this kind of emotion. She had been afraid many times during the war, but it was always for herself. Now she felt fear for a different person. In some crazy way she felt connected and almost felt his fear too. She knew that she was safe, but Hawkeye was in immediate danger and there was nothing she could do. She had no way of comforting him or taking care of him and it made her feel useless.

 _Stop it!_ She told herself. _Self pity is useless_. There were at least 30 more wounded boys out there that she could help save. But not the one she wanted to most.

That feeling of fear crept up on her again and she tried to push it away by focusing on a happy moment from a few days ago. She knew she could only stay away a few more minutes, but she had the sudden urge to record it in her journal.


	2. Chapter 2

She and Hawkeye had been taking inventory, and as usual, he was getting on her nerves. She remembered sitting there in the supply tent with her clipboard, watching him wander through the shelves like he had never been in there before.

“Will you hurry?” she griped.

“I’m sorry Major, I don’t read well through my eyelids,” he replied.

“I’m tired too, Captain. The sooner we get this done, the sooner we can go to sleep.” And boy did she need sleep.

“Tetracycline! Oh, here it is. Yeah you better order a case.” She made a note on the list.

“Sulfa?” she asked next.

“Sulfa, where’s the stupid sulfa?” She had a feeling it wasn't where it was supposed to be.

“It’s in the living room,” she mumbled.

“What?”

“The sulfa’s in the living room between the end tables,” she clarified.

He looked at her in shock. “Margaret, you made a joke.”

“I told you I was tired.”

“‘The sulfa’s in the living room.’ I can’t believe you said that.” He grinned. They both started laughing.

He finally stopped to breathe. “Ok, sulfa.” He found it. “Here, we got plenty.”

“Sulfa, so good,” she joked. He cracked up again.

“Morphine?”

“No thanks, I’ve got plenty,” he replied with a chuckle.

“I’m sorry.” She tried to compose herself.

“No, no I love it. Someone’s been playing with your silly hormones.” He smiled.

“Come on, we’ve got to get this done.” She said seriously.

“Okay, okay. Digitalis?”

She couldn't resist. “No, I’m keeping it a secret.”

“Nitrous?” He was still laughing.

“Good nitrous, sweet prince.”

They both burst into laughter again.

She and Hawkeye were still laughing when she heard the door open and someone walk in. Kellye had come in for some supplies. _Obviously_ , Margaret thought. _This is the supply tent after all._

Suddenly self conscious, she put on a straight face.

She saw Hawkeye's face fall as she felt herself turn back into Major Houlihan. They continued taking inventory.

A few minutes later, she heard Kellye leaving.

“Goodnight, Major. Captain.”

“Goodnight, Kellye,” Hawkeye responded.

The door closed and Hawkeye turned back to Margaret.

“How much do we have left?” he groaned.

“We're on the last page of the list, Captain. And you know all this is due tomorrow morning. If you hadn't kept putting it off we wouldn't be rushing to finish it now. You're lucky I agreed to help you,” she snapped.

“Whoa Margaret. What brought this on? We were just starting to get along.”

“I told you I was tired. Now can you please hurry up?”

“Sure thing.”

They went through the rest of the list quickly and quietly.

“Well, that's it,” she said, standing up and getting ready to go.

“That was fun,” Hawkeye said.

Margaret rolled her eyes. She knew she had been pretty rude.

“No, I mean it. It turns out you do have a sense of humor. Those were some pretty terrible puns.”

“They were, weren't they?” she laughed.

Hawkeye smiled. “I’ll have you know there’s no one else I’d rather be stuck doing inventory with than you.”

Margaret was confused by the look in his eyes. He really had been nicer than he needed to be. She noticed he was standing close in front of her. Her heart skipped a beat and she suddenly felt nervous. She was so tired and all she wanted to do was run back to her tent and collapse on her bed, but something stopped her. Literally, it was Hawkeye standing right in front of her, but there was something else. She was almost afraid to leave, as though walking out that door would mean leaving something important behind.

Margaret took a deep breath and stepped closer to Hawkeye.

“You’re beautiful when you laugh,” he said softly.

She was overwhelmed by the nearness of him. He smelled like a combination of alcohol, disinfectant and army soap, but somehow she found that boring blend intoxicating. She had never noticed how blue his eyes were or how thick his hair was. She had a sudden urge to run her fingers through it.

Hawkeye’s look was getting more intense by the moment and Margaret knew something different was about to happen.

“Can I kiss you?”

 _Why is he asking permission?_ she thought. No one had asked her that since middle school and it was kind of sweet. _Since when has Hawkeye ever been sweet? There's a first for everything I suppose._

“Yes,” she heard herself whisper.

His hand touched her chin and he tilted her face up towards his. He leaned down to kiss her, surprising Margaret with the softness of his kiss. _This isn't spur of the moment,_ she realized. _It feels like he's been wanting to kiss me for a long time._

She began to respond to his kiss, wrapping her arms around his waist and pulling him closer. But a million thoughts were running through her mind and she started to get uncomfortable. She pulled away and looked up at him.

She must’ve stared too long, because he asked if she was ok.

“I’m a little confused,” she replied.

“Why?’

“Well, you’re not the sort of person I usually make out with in the supply tent.”

“Neither are you,” he smirked. “Is that a problem?”

“Well no, I’m just not sure we should be doing this. We’re both too tired and not thinking clearly.”

“Maybe you’re right,” Hawkeye said reluctantly. He turned around and pushed the door open.

“Ladies first.”

As they walked across the compound together, Margaret’s head was spinning. They stopped at the door of her tent. She was turning to go inside when she heard Hawkeye apologize.

“I’m sorry if I overstepped, but I really enjoyed laughing with you and I thought you might’ve felt the same way.”

“Oh I do,” she said. “I just not sure this,” she gestured between them, “is a good idea.”

Hawkeye’s face fell. “I understand.”

“I hope you do. Goodnight, Hawk.”

“Goodnight, Margaret.” He took a quick glance around before he bent down and gave her a small kiss on the cheek.

Margaret smiled softly as she walked into her tent.

 _That really was a nice night,_ she mused.

Margaret took one more moment to finish writing in her journal and then made her way back to the OR.


	3. Chapter 3

Margaret was definitely feeling better after her break. It was amazing what even the shortest rest could do to her energy level. She felt more focused and even a little bit happier since she had poured out her feelings into her journal.

But the surgery hadn't gotten any better. Another bus of casualties pulled into the compound as she was walking back to OR. The doctors were all in surgery so she started triage and then handed Klinger the reins as she went into the OR. _He really has stepped up since Radar left,_ she thought. She was impressed. It was hard to believe that the man in high heels and evening dresses had earned her respect on merit alone.

“Are you feeling better, Major?” Col. Potter asked as she walked back inside.

“Yes, sir,” she answered, also letting them know about the bus load of casualties that had just arrived.

Everyone groaned.

The work continued for many more hours until Margaret’s break seemed to be days in the past. Surgery moved much more slowly without Hawkeye to help. She knew he was needed at the Aid Station, but she couldn’t help being concerned that some of the patients at the 4077th might be in danger without him.

Margaret realized such thoughts were very unmilitary. “Soldiers” follow orders and while Hawkeye wasn’t enthusiastic about following them she knew he had chosen to take the risk. She just hoped it had been the right decision.

It had been nearly two days without any word from Battalion Aid or I Corps about Hawkeye’s situation. The whole camp was getting restless. Margaret hated to admit it, but Hawkeye really was the central person in the camp. His presence had been one of the few constants in this ever changing wartime environment.

 _Had been? You’re almost as bad as Charles, thinking about him in the past tense_ , she realized.

BJ called her over to his table.

“Are you ok?” he asked.

“Not really.”

“Neither am I.”

Margaret knew BJ was the only one who understood the closeness she and Hawkeye shared. He had been caught in the crossfire of many an argument and she assumed Hawkeye had told BJ about a few of their more amiable encounters. BJ was never one to gossip, but she could tell by the look in his eyes that he was definitely aware of their feelings for each other. _He probably understands them better than I do_ , she thought.

“Maybe I’ve been a little outspoken in my concern, but I feel guilty because it was my turn to go.”

Margaret smiled. “You have been a little loud. You once nearly startled a patient out from under his anesthesia.”

Her voice turned serious. “But you’re asking all the questions and demanding all the answers that I wish I could.”

“It’s been tough for you to hide it, hasn’t it?”

“Hide what?”

“The way you love him.”

“The way I what?” she nearly yelled. _The nerve of him, presuming to know all of my feelings_ , she thought. 

Now it was his turn to smile. “Shh, Margaret. You’ll wake the patient.”

“He’s my friend, just like he’s yours,” she said stubbornly, knowing it wasn't true. As far as she knew, Hawkeye and BJ had never made out in the supply tent.

“I’ll admit it’s been hard for me to hide my concern,” she sighed, “but I’m not sure concern equals love. I do have a feeling though that if - no, _when_ \- he returns things will be different.”

“Yeah,” BJ agreed. “I’ve never worked this long without him.”

“Neither have I,” she admitted. “There are days that he’s been gone, but never when we’ve had so many casualties.”

 “I guess all we can do is hope.”

 “That’s all we’ve been doing for the past two days,” she groaned. “I feel so useless.”

“Well the young man on the table in front of you certainly doesn’t think you’re useless.”

“I know,” Margaret replied. She turned her attention back to the young man in question.

“He’s awfully young, isn’t he?” she heard Fr. Mulcahy ask.

“Yeah. I can’t tell if they’re getting younger or we’re just getting older,” BJ replied.

Col. Potter spoke up. “I remember when I was a medic in WWII, there was more than one private who was under 17. Enlisting was one way for these young boys to prove their bravery and the recruiters were very lenient and willing to accept anyone physically fit no matter their age. Sometimes we would rescue them from the battlefields and their voices would crack as they told us their names. I was never sure whether to be impressed by their gumption or disappointed in their foolishness. The same thing happens now, but I’m no longer impressed. I’m disappointed that they misunderstand what they’ve gotten themselves into. Some days I just want to call Mildred and tell her to make sure the neighborhood boys never leave their houses.”

As he was telling his story, Margaret realized that just a few years ago, she would’ve supported these young men’s “brave decision,” but today she knew they were just foolishly wasting “the best years of their lives.”

  _I love that movie_ , she could hear Hawkeye saying. _Teresa Wright is definitely my kinda gal._

 A shout from BJ pulled her out of her daydream.

“Watch the racket, Hunnicutt. This hospital’s in a hospital zone.” Col. Potter admonished.

“Hawkeye Pierce is alive and well and living at Battalion Aid!” BJ exclaimed.

“What?” Charles asked incredulously.

“How do you know that?” Fr. Mulcahy asked.

“He left his fingerprints all over this guy. Who else sews vertical mattress stitches with white cotton sutures?”

“That’s gotta be him!” Margaret exclaimed, more relieved than she fully realized.

 _He’s ok. Hawkeye’s fine. He’ll be coming home soon._ Those thoughts were running through her mind as she was finally able to relax and breathe deeply for the first time in days.

A few hours later, Klinger came into the OR with good news.

“A new surgeon arrived at the Aid Station this morning, so Hawkeye’s on his way back.”

The room erupted in cheers.

Margaret finally felt safe again.

The last of the casualties were finally taken care of and the doctors exited the OR. Margaret was on her way to her tent and ready to collapse on her bed when she heard a jeep pull into the compound.

Her heart leapt and she ran over to see Hawkeye, sitting in the jeep safe and sound.


	4. Chapter 4

It was late and most of the camp had already gone to bed, so Margaret was the first one to greet Hawkeye as he stepped out of the jeep. She threw her arms around his neck in a tight hug. He pulled her closer.

“I’m ok,” he whispered.

 “They told us a surgeon had been killed at the aid station and we thought it was you.”

 “It wasn’t.”

 “Obviously.”

 “I need to rest.” His arms were still wrapped around her and she didn’t want to move. She pulled away reluctantly.

“We could go to my tent,” she suggested quietly.

“Ok.” He looked surprised at her offer.

They walked across the compound to her tent and went inside.

“A few hours after you left, casualties began to arrive. It’s been a constant stream for the past two days.”

“I’m sorry I had to leave.”

“It wasn’t your fault.”

“It’s horrible up there.”

“I know. I’ve been.”

“It was even worse than before. The shelling was closer, too close, and there was only one other medic. I missed having you there.”

“It was weird here without you too.”

They were sitting side by side on her bed. He had his arm wrapped around her waist and she leaned her head on his shoulder.

“There was no running water. We talk about doing meatball surgery here, but it's a million times worse up there. The boys came in threes and fours and we couldn't handle them all. I've never lost so many.” 

His voice cracked and Margaret knew he was about to cry. She didn't like when he cried, but she was impressed that he wasn't ashamed of it. She had never met a man so open with his emotions. Maybe that's why the look in his eyes was always so intense.

She knew he wasn't used to losing patients. He was the best surgeon they had and she had seen him jump in and save many a hopeless cause.

“You were gone a long time. It was lonely. BJ was worried.”

“Just BJ?”

“Well I was too,” she admitted.

I thought about us when I was up there.”

“Us?”

“Yeah, when it got really rough I tried to think about better things. Most of them involved you.”

“I know what you mean. OR was intense. I tried to distract myself too. I must've done too good a job, because I made a lot of mistakes." She was too nervous to admit she had been thinking about him too.

“It's so quiet here,” he observed. “It's hard to get the memory of the shelling out of my head.” 

“Yeah, I still have nightmares about our last trip up there.”

 _They weren't all bad dreams though_ , she thought. There were nights when she could still feels his arms wrapped around her. No one had held her the way he had that night. _Chivalry isn't dead_ , he had said. They had fallen asleep in each other's arms. She wondered what it would be like to have his arms around her when they weren't lying on the cold, hard ground.

She didn't have to wonder very long because he moved his arm from around her waist and stood up.

“Can I stay here tonight?” he asked.

It had been weeks since he had said that to her. She had turned him down a few times before out of embarrassment, but tonight she was grateful he asked to stay. After these past few days, she needed to know he was safe.

“Don't you want to go back to The Swamp and your own bed?” she asked, afraid he might say yes.

“No.”

He stepped closer and wrapped his arms around her in another tight embrace.

“I missed you more than anyone else. I couldn't sleep because you weren't there,” he confessed.

“I missed you too.” She leaned in and listened to his heartbeat.

Hawkeye placed a kiss on the top of her head and she smiled at the way she fit so well under his chin. Feeling much more confident than she had the night in the supply tent, she reached up and kissed him. It was far from sweet as she poured out her anger and fear at his absence into the kiss. He responded in kind, holding her tighter than he ever had before. The night in the hut a few months ago had been fueled by fear and desperation. Tonight was full of passion and frustration.

She had missed being in his arms.

Margaret’s whole body tingled when he kissed her neck. He was still in his jacket so she pushed it off his shoulders. She realized she was still in her scrubs. She took a deep breath decided to just go for it as she started to untie her pants.

“What are you doing?”

“Undressing. Do you mind?” She motioned for him to turn around.

He stepped away, confused.

“Aren’t you going to do the same? You’re still in the clothes you wore to the front.”

“Okay…”

“Look, if we’re going to do this, it’d be much more practical if we got undressed now.” She gave him a teasing smile.

Hawkeye smirked and quickly removed his dirty things. Margaret slipped into a comfortable t-shirt and sat down on the bed.

“I’m tired.”

“I’m wide awake,” he said, yawning.

She smiled. “Well, I’m going to lie down for a while. It might be nice if you joined me. You wanted to stay, didn’t you?”

“I did. I do.”

“Ok then. That’s settled.”

He was looking at her with that intense look in his eye again. She reached out her hand and pulled him down beside her.

“Hold me,” she whispered.

He wrapped his arms around her again and shifted so they were lying next to each other on her small bed.

“This is a little crowded, isn’t it?” He observed.

“Well, that just means we’ll have to squeeze closer together,” she said as she pulled him to her.

“How’s this?”

“This is very nice.” He was yawning again and she could tell his eyes were closing.

“Goodnight, Hawkeye.”

“Goodnight, Margaret,” he mumbled.


	5. Chapter 5

Margaret woke up that morning refreshed and with a smile on her face. The past few days had been the most exhausting of her life, so the nearly eight hours of sleep that she had just gotten had been wonderful. She slowly untangled herself from Hawkeye's arms and started to get out of bed. She stopped short when she realized she was wearing nothing but a t-shirt. She looked around her tent and saw Hawkeye's jacket and clothes lying on the floor.

Margaret smiled at the sleeping man beside her. It was so nice to spend the night in someone's arms with no expectation of sex. She did feel a twinge of disappointment that their kisses hadn't gone further, but she guessed last night wouldn't be the only time he slept over in the future. 

Margaret stood up and started to get ready. She decided to let Hawkeye sleep for a while since she knew he needed it. She tiptoed around her tent, getting ready for her day. She cleared Hawkeye’s clothes off the floor and went to hang up his jacket. As she picked it up a note fell out of the pocket. She bent down and grabbed it.

 _This isn’t just a note_ , she realized. _It’s a letter_. A small voice inside her warned not to read it, but her curiosity got the better of her.

 “I, Benjamin Franklin Pierce, being of sound mind and endangered body…”

  _Holy shit. This isn’t just a letter. It’s a will_.

 The front must’ve been worse than she imagined. She skimmed the rest of the document, trying to understand why he felt he needed to write it. She stopped when she saw her name.

 “To you, Margaret, I leave my treasured Groucho nose and glasses. May they remind you of how much I enjoyed that silly side you show all too infrequently.”

 _Well, that was unexpected_ , she thought. As she continued to read, she realized he was recounting the exact same memory she had written about in her journal a few days ago. She felt a little twinge of happiness at the coincidence. Margaret was impressed by the combination of comedy and seriousness he brought to the writing.

  _It’s so uniquely Hawkeye_ , she reflected. 

Hawkeye woke up just as she finished reading.

“Good morning,” she said softly.

He smiled. “Well, you're a lovely sight to wake up to in the morning.”

A moment later, Hawkeye noticed the paper in her hand. His face turned serious.

“Did you read it?”

“Yes.”

“I wasn't planning on sharing that with anyone.” He sounded upset.

“I realized that.”

“Did you read all of it?”

“Yes.”

Now Margaret was getting upset and started to feel guilty. It's not everyday people share their wills.

“You should've asked.”

“I didn't want to wake you.”

“Bullshit.”

 _Wow he really is angry_ , she realized. That twinge of guilt turned into shame. She hurried to apologize.

 “It fell out of your coat and I just wanted to know if you said anything about me. But obviously that was a mistake since I'm only worth a pair of glasses to you,” Margaret nearly yelled.

 “I thought I was about to die and you're complaining about what I included in my will?!”

By this point, they were both shouting. Hawkeye was ready to storm out of her tent when he realized he wasn't wearing pants. He snatched them off the chair with a huff and got dressed in record time. 

“Wait.” Margaret blocked the door. “I didn't mean that crack about the glasses. I was just upset. I've never felt so scared that I thought I should make a will. I can't imagine what that must've been like.”

Hawkeye's face softened. “I know you're disappointed, but I really was too concerned to plan anything out. I just wrote down the first thing that came to mind. I couldn't sleep and it seemed like something practical to pass the time.”

“I understand.”

Margaret had a feeling this was her chance.

“So you know the memory you wrote about? That time we did inventory together?”

“Yeah.”

“And you know how I keep a journal?”

“Yeah. It's right over there.” He pointed to her desk.

“Well I got the chance to take a break from the OR and I came back here for a few minutes.” She took a deep breath and got her journal out of the top drawer. “I was super worried about you and I started to write. By some crazy coincidence, it was about the same exact memory.”

“Well you know what they say about great minds…”

“Yeah it’s too bad you don’t have one,” she teased. “It’s a nice thought though. The idea that we may have been writing about the same thing at the exact same time.”

He took a step closer. “Maybe it means something.”

“Maybe.”

“Maybe we should finish what we started last night.”

“Maybe.”

She looked up at him. There was a familiar tension in the air and she knew something important was about to happen.

“As I recall, you were kissing me quite passionately last night. Maybe you should do that again.”

“Maybe.”

Margaret stood up on her toes and wrapped her arms around his neck. She pressed her lips to his.

His arms came around her waist and he deepened the kiss.

“I thought I might lose you.”

“I thought I _had_ lost you.”

“I didn’t mean to hurt you. You know you’re worth more to me than a pair of glasses.”

“I do know that. It’s just annoying to see something so frivolous put into writing.”

“Would it make you feel better if I stopped writing things down and started kissing you instead?”

“Yes. I think that would make me feel much better.”

He smirked and lowered his mouth to hers for another intense kiss.

He pulled away. “You’re not wearing pants. Maybe we should take advantage of that.”

“Maybe.”

He took her hand and led her back to the bed. 

“Hawkeye, it’s almost time for breakfast. People will be wondering why your jeep is back, but you’re missing.”

“I’m not missing. I’m right where I’m supposed to be.”

 _Oh boy_ , Margaret thought. _He knows how easily I give in when he says things like that_.

He pushed her back onto the bed and pulled off his shirt.

She smiled up at him. “I suppose you are.”

“And _I_ suppose we can be late for breakfast,” he replied.

“Maybe.”

“Definitely.”


End file.
